The Beast Within
by Phoenix901
Summary: Set in my own AU, this tells the story of the Xmen's beginning and first mission. I have drawn aspects from the comics, animated series, Xmen Evolution and films in writing it. Includes some original characters. It is my first story so please review.


The Beast Within

Dark clouds swirled menacingly in the sky, they had been gathering all day without so much as a grunt of thunder, but now the curtain of night had been drawn the storm began. Hard missiles of rain thudded against the lab's windows. They smeared down the glass, failing in their task to reach the inside. Some of their endless brethren though, succeeded, for one of the windows was smashed. The laboratory was a large, domed building set upon the crest of a hill at the far end of the campus grounds, which belonged to the prestigious Westchester University. While the main buildings were clustered together for the ease of the students, the lonely lab was nearly half a mile from that site, taking advantage of the high ground to break free from the choker of trees that encompassed it, and making stargazing particularly convenient. Stargazing, however, would not have been possible on that night – the angry clouds made sure of that.

Despite the time being somewhere past midnight, the lab's lower ring of windows were lit brightly. Inside, the near perfect silence of the large, round room (there were only two rooms, one on each floor) allowed even the dull buzz of those searing bulbs to be heard. The room was as any good scientific place of study was; clinically clean, well lit, cluttered with all sorts of equipment – from computers to test tubes. The place would have looked normal were it not for the broken glass that was strewn across the floor from the direction of one of the large, rounded windows. The place would have also looked empty if it were not for the man who was seated at a desk directly opposite the broken window. He was a hulking man, with hunched shoulders and thick limbs. Over his baggy shirt he wore a ragged and worn khaki overcoat that fell as low as his ankles. His hair was a mess, not necessarily long, but rugged and oddly fur-like. The same went for his long sideburns. But the most striking thing about the fellow was that his hair, all of it, was blue – a light indigo to be exact. Apart from this, he looked quite normal; a pair of spectacles was even perched on his nose. The man's face had a look of deep concentration and concern on it; he was hurriedly rifling through a pile of mail. At last he found the letter he wanted, ripping it open with unusually claw like nails and began to read.

This mans name was Doctor Henry McCoy, or Hank to his friends, and 'Beast' to his old college roommates – a nickname he earned through his prowess on the football field. He was a teacher of Biochemistry at the University, or at least he had been until the day before. One of his pupils, a particularly bright spark by the name of David Xanatos, had discovered the truth about his professor's odd choice of hair colour. It had not, Xanatos revealed, been dyed that way on a bet (as Henry had claimed), but it was because Dr. McCoy was a mutant. Relatively new things to humanity, mutants first started showing up three years ago. They were people, usually adolescents, whose genes differed very slightly to normal humans and the result: amazing, often dangerous abilities and transformations. Henry, it turned out, was experiencing the latter. Mutants were not exactly 'socially accepted'. Needless to say the University was not keen to have a mutant on the staff, so they fired the good doctor. A shame, thought McCoy, he had given so much to the school. It had been he who had led the fund-raising efforts for the new laboratory in which he now sat. It had been he who had coached the University's football team onto a three season's straight victory. But now it was over. He had briefly returned to the lab to pick up his mail, and then he would be on his way. But, then again, where could he go now? Who would take him in now that it had been publicly announced he was a mutant, people despised for their differences to humanity?

The answer may just be in this letter, thought McCoy, as he began to read the last of his mail. It was presented very officially, with a professional logo and everything. Henry considered for a minute the possibility that the letter had been sent from the government. It was not, however.

_XAVIER SCHOOL FOR THE GIFTED_

_1027 Graymalkin Lane, Westchester_

_Headmaster: Professor Charles Xavier_

_Dear Doctor McCoy,_

_I have recently heard of your mutation. I run an institute on Graymalkin Lane that serves to help new mutants come to terms with their abilities. I am inviting you to come to this school for the weekend so that I can show you our facility, which you will be no doubt fascinated in. Should you then decide to stay on and teach at the academy, you will be most welcome. I understand you may be troubled by your recent exposure as a mutant, especially as mutation is your field of expertise. Let there be no pressure on you to come, but we would be delighted to see you all the same._

_Yours truly,_

Professor Charles Xavier 

Henry's sad heart lifted. This was his way out – he could see here a future for him, away from prejudice. But was it a trap? He had heard things about mutants being tricked into thinking their safe when they are not, and then, well, Henry never heard what became of them. He looked up and took in his reflection at the window opposite his desk. Yes, this was his _only _choice. He had to go – but he would be wary.

Getting up, Henry stretched and pocketed his glasses and the letter. Just as Henry heard voices getting closer outside and instinctively turned to see their source, a horrible itching sensation came over his whole body. It was like there was something writhing under every inch of his skin to burst forth from it. Henry was suddenly doubled over in the agonising pain, his face contorted with anguish. Thunder burst down from above in the storm that had reached full swing; a spear of lightning caught one of the distant University buildings. Moments later and Henry sat up, his pain over. The door to the lab burst open and somebody screamed. Henry crouched low like an ape, and made for the smashed window. The swooning women at the door screamed louder as he past, and McCoy roared in response. Reaching the window, he perched on the sill for an instant to glance around, and then he leapt into the tempestuous night.

Morning greeted the weather-bashed Westchester in a timid fashion – a mist was left by the storm so that everything had a pale shimmer to it. On the outskirts of the town, along the winding Graymalkin Lane, there lay the Xavier Estate. A wide, sweeping drive complete with motorised gate and grand fountain, led up to the regal Xavier Mansion. It was an old, grand building; arching windows and oak double doors under a Georgian porch dominated the front view. The front lawn, split in two by the drive, displayed many statues and sculptures dotted among tall birch trees whose branches stretched towards the sky. Should anyone have been watching the front wall that morning, they would have spotted a silent shadow dart over the wall and up the nearest tree.

Inside the mansion, a mechanical whirr heralded the arrival at ground level of the lift. What would have appeared to be a standard wall panel slid open in the well-furnished entrance hall and a bald man in a wheel chair rolled out of the now revealed lift interior. His wheel chair was like no other – it was controlled by a number of buttons on the arm, and it spokes were in the form of an 'X'. He yawned as he moved the chair forward across the hall to the front doors. The man was wearing an impeccably clean suit with a crisp cream tie, and his eyebrows were slightly arched to give him an otherworldly, but keenly intelligent, look.

Just as he reached the door, a deep knock resounded out from it and into the empty hall. Leaning forward to a small control panel near the wall, the man flicked a switch. The door did not open out, or move into the cold air, but slid coolly aside revealing a hulking man in an extremely wet and very muddy overcoat. This new figure looked down to the wheel chair bound fellow and growled lowly – it was more curious than threatening though.

"Dr. McCoy, I presume?" asked the distinctly cleaner man. He found himself looking up into the face of what could have been mistaken for a blue ape. McCoy's sodden hair clung untidily to his face; long indigo sideburns stretched down his cheeks under his pointed ears. But what had not been there until the previous night was a full covering of fine blue fur, slightly lighter than his 'normal' hair. Looking down at the doctor's hands, the wheelchair man saw that the fur covered those great plates as well, complimented by animal like claws.

"I … I received a letter," mumbled McCoy. He would have continued but the other man cut in.

"I know you did," he said, smiling, "because I sent it."

Henry's previously suspicious eyes focused suddenly, so that his brutish face gained a whole new look to it. It now held a look of mingled interest and respect.

"You are Professor, err –" he pulled out an irredeemably crumpled letter from his coat pocket and scanned it. He just made out the words of the sender. "Professor Xavier?"

"That is me, Professor Charles Francis Xavier, and this is the Xavier School for the Gifted. Please come in," said the man and he rolled backwards as Henry stepped in, his bare, muddy feet dirtying the hall. Those too were covered in the same blue fur as his face and hands, "Would you like some breakfast?"

After a long pause, Henry accepted and Xavier led the way down the hall, passing many doors that led off into the various rooms of the mansion. When they neared the end of the corridor, they entered the last room. Like the front door, it slid open, but this one did it automatically. It revealed to Henry a wide room with windows that looked out over the drive and front lawn. A fine polished counter ran round the edge of the room from the door to the far window, where it ended in a breakfast bar. Beyond that was a table set with four chairs tucked neatly under its belly. Amidst the counters length there was a stove, a stainless steel sink and a mini fridge. Above it were many cupboards. Despite the pale early morning, the décor of this kitchen made the room feel bright and cheerful. Xavier flicked another switch as he went in and the lights came on, adding to the clarity of the place. Henry however had not moved from the threshold.

"Where are all the students?" he asked, turning his head to look at the Professor, who was busy getting bowls out of a low cupboard.

"Goodness," chuckled Xavier, "when have you known students to be up at six am on Saturday, or on any day for that matter?"

The reality of the time slightly startled Henry. He had long lost track of such a thing. Apprehensively, he entered the kitchen and leant against the counter.

"Do you always get up this early?" he asked.

"No, not usually," answered the Professor casually, now pouring Cornflakes out into the bowls, "but I knew you were coming."

Henry stood up straight and stared at the Professor. "How did you -?" he began. Xavier, however, cut him off.

"You're not the only mutant you know. I knew of your imminent arrival from two sources, both of which stem from a mutation. A student here has the ability to see into the future, and told me of your coming. I also sensed your presence when you crossed our border this morning. I am a psychic you see. Telepathic."

Henry was taken aback by the casual manner the man before him spoke with. He talked about mutation like it was an everyday thing, like it was _normal_. Henry looked down at his own furry hands and clenched them in anger. It wasn't fair. He didn't dare voice this frustration though, with another mutant in the same room. Xavier probably felt the same way though.

"On the contrary Dr McCoy, I am equally proud and honoured to be a mutant," said Xavier, jerking Henry away from his thoughts. He looked up to see the Professor fixing him with a matter-of-fact look. Henry's mouth gaped, but said nothing, "And you needn't look so worried. The only reason I knew what you were thinking is because your mind was projecting the thought so much that I picked it up just by looking at you. I have a rule though, in this school. No psychic is allowed to read another's mind without his or her prior consent. Now, please, come and eat,"

Henry let out a long sigh. He was at last convinced of Xavier's authenticity, and instead of doubt clouding the good doctor's mind, wonder and hope began to flood it. Perhaps he could indeed be cured of his mutation. He strode over to the table and sat down. As he did so, he felt the wet tails of his coat crumple against his ripped trousers. Hastily he removed the filthy rag and, at a gesture from the Professor (who was waiting patiently to begin the meal), draped it over another chair. Henry's stretched shirt and trousers were torn, apparently due to the previous night's radical mutation. The sad fact was that all of his body was covered in the blue fur.

The pair ate for a while, Henry glad for some nourishment. While the Professor kept a certain dignity about him, Henry ate with a beastly hunger, and did not realise it. His mutation had apparently endowed him with this animal-like quirk. And there were other effects to. During his nighttime trek from the university to the mansion, Henry had found himself with keener senses, and the agility of a primate.

"How many students do you have here?" Henry asked, now finished his breakfast. He suddenly found himself bursting with questions – at least the fur had not diminished his trademark curiosity.

"Three. They have been here five or six years now," answered Xavier

"Three?" said Henry, "but I thought this was a school?"

"It is, but at the moment no one but the government knows that. I take it upon myself to invite the students here, or in your case, the teachers, should you decide to stay."

Henry paused, his mouth open in half answer. "I will see," he said at last. Xavier had now finished to, but did not move and was looking at Henry expectedly, so he felt it safe to continue his enquiries.

"How did you come to possess this facility?"

"The estate has been in my family for generations, ever since Edward Xavier acquired it some time in the late 1800s. It was where Darwin announced his theory of evolution, actually."

"Fascinating!" mused Henry, leaning forward and resting his head on his hands. The Professor continued.

"Yes, but as it happens I might not have inherited it. You see my father died when I was very young, and my mother remarried. Although I was due to have the estate should my mother die, her new husband Kurt Marko wanted it to go to his own son Cain. Unfortunately, all three died on a trip to Korea. Cain, who should have inherited the house, could not, so it came to me. It was extremely fortunate that I was not involved in the accident that killed my family – the only reason I wasn't is because I was studying for my degree.

"A few years ago, with all the revelation of mutants appearing on the news and causing mass hysteria on a global scale, I knew some mutants would feel uncomfortable about their gifts so I converted the mansion into a school."

"Noble indeed, Professor," said Henry

They talked for a long time, discussing everything from Henry's exposure as a mutant (a thing publicly televised) to Xavier's crippling. It was mid-morning by the time their conversation came to an end. The two washed up the dishes and then Xavier offered Henry a tour of the mansion. He graciously accepted.

The mansion was an expansive place that was better furnished than any other house Henry had ever been in. Professor Xavier first showed him the library – a round massive room opposite the kitchen, filled with books from fantasy to the theory of free radicals. They moved on to view the gym, several lounges, the dining room, the bathroom, another library, and the drawing room. This last place served as both Xavier's office and a classroom. The Professor explained that when more students arrived he would convert other rooms into extra classrooms. The office provided a good look at the grounds. Henry could make out a swimming pool, a tennis court, a basketball court and a few ponds amidst the lushly landscaped flowerbeds. Upstairs were the many bedrooms (soon to become dormitories), numerous bathrooms and more relaxation areas.

When, at last, they returned to the ground floor, Xavier proceeded towards the wall opposite the front door next to the arch of the stair. Henry was apprehensive, thinking the tour over. But the Professor beckoned. As Henry approached, the wall panel next to the wheel-chaired man slid open. Henry was not so surprised at this as the change of décor. The white, reflective lift interior contrasted greatly with the entrance hall's dark wooden walls and furniture.

"The school is, of course, just the public face. The lower levels though are another matter entirely," said the Professor, a serious glint in his eye. Henry found his curiosity coming back swiftly.

The two took the lift and after a short ride arrived in what the Professor called the 'subbasement'. Like the lift, it was steely and clinical. The elevator looked out on a lengthy corridor from which other corridors split off, with alcoves leading to round titanium doors that were, similar to the ones above, automatic. As the pair went round, investigating the various rooms, Henry moved his eyes over the wonders in this mechanised cellar. First came the infirmary, with the most advanced medical technology Henry had ever seen. Then there was the laboratory, fully stocked with chemicals and scientific equipment. Along the corridor was the amazing hangar that contained a spectacular jet. Xavier showed him the War-room, complete with super computer.

But of all the things so far, Henry was most fascinated by the thing called the 'Danger Room'. This complex training facility was a circular chamber designed to test the abilities of a mutant, and to train them to further their powers. The Professor had led him to a room with a console that served as a viewing platform over a much bigger facility. This wide, round room was filled with machinery of all sorts – from laser turrets to oversized circular saws. Henry was quite alarmed, and the Professor obviously realised this. He turned to his companion and said:

"The weapons may look dangerous, but there programmed to stop should you get out of your depth. In fact, I'd say it is the weapons who are more in danger." He chuckled and Henry smiled. But there was a question still nagging at the back of his mind.

"How did you build all this? I mean, who developed it?"

Xavier smiled again, and made for the door. "I have a friend whose mutant gift enables him to invent anything that he puts his mind to. I helped him focus and control his gift, and so in repayment he built all this for me. All of it, except one piece of equipment."

"Which?"

Professor Xavier rolled on down the corridor and stopped outside the last door. This one did not open automatically, but Xavier leaned forward towards an eyepiece in the centre. After an electronic beeping that came as the Professor's eye was scanned, the door split open and slid apart.

"Welcome to Cerebro," announced Xavier as he moved into this new place. It was the biggest room yet, spherical with a bridge that extended out from the doorway until it reached the middle. At the end of the walkway was a panel that rose up from the ground, attached to some kind of helmet that was perched on the top.

"Fascinating," muttered Henry, "what does it do?"

"It amplifies my power so that I can find any person on the planet. When it is operational, I am connected to every living being, mutant and human alike."

"That is truly amazing. You say your friend did not build this, who did?"

"I did, with the help of another friend. When I was a teenager I discovered I had the ability to control other people minds – make them do or say what I wanted. Then I met another young man, by the name of Erik Lensherr who like me had a power. He could manipulate magnetism and through it, metal. For a time we held to the same belief – that mutants and humans could co-exist peacefully, and together we built this machine to further our goal in uniting humanity."

"What became of him?"

The Professor paused. A shadow came over his face, and he wore a grave expression. Finally, he continued, "Erik, a survivor of the Holocaust, had little faith in the kindness of man. He began to see things differently. Eventually, Erik renounced our former values, proclaiming that humans and mutants could never live together. He forsook his name, and took on a new one – Magneto. The last I knew of him, he was hell bent on bringing down all of humanity to make way for mutants. It was that final encounter that left me in a wheelchair, as I told you before Dr McCoy."

Although Henry felt a slight chill from the Professor's tale, his manners interjected, "Call me Henry, please. No wait – call me Hank," He smiled as the Professor looked up. Slowly, he nodded.

"As long as you call me Charles, and not continually 'Professor'," He laughed.

They left Cerebro chatting. As they went on down the hall, a face popped out from the War Room door. It was a young mans', with a swathe of brown hair and high cheekbones. A pair of blood red sunglasses shielded his eyes. The face was serious and seemed undaunted by Hank's appearance.

"I think you should see this Professor," said the face before disappearing again. The two followed it into the room. Watching a television screen that dominated part of the wall was the head that had called to the Professor, now with a body. It was dressed in a dark sweater with a pair of baggy jeans; Henry noted that he was particularly well muscled, even for a youth.

"Ah, Hank, meet Scott Summers," said Charles, and the young man turned round to shake Hank's hand.

"Pleased to meet you," said Scott, nodding. Hank was quietly ecstatic at Scott's lack of apprehension on the count of the Doctor's mutation.

They all turned their attention to the television, which was showing a news report. An angry crowd brandishing homemade signs and banners were jostling with police as a car glided out from the White House drive. With a sickening jolt, Hank realised the banners all had anti-mutant slogans. The reporter's voice was shouting over the cries of the crowd.

" – has yet to comment. As you can see there has been an unprecedented reaction from the public, and ever since the announcement this morning, the crowd here has become bigger and louder. They are shocked that someone so high up in the government could be part of the mutant menace. Senator Robert Kelly had this to say – "

"The Vice President has been exposed as a mutant," said Scott in response to Henry's confused expression. The Professor said nothing, but rubbed his chin in concern. Henry himself felt sick to the bone. He had faced scenes like this, albeit to a lesser degree, when David Xanatos had ousted him as a mutant. And the phrase 'mutant menace' – it made him feel little more than an animal.

"Surely there is something we can do, Professor?" Scott asked. Charles considered the possibilities for a minute.

"No. There are too few of us," he said at last, "And besides, I don't think presenting more mutants to this crowd would be a wise thing. We can only watch and wait."

"What is the Vice President's mutation?" said Hank

"It's not been revealed yet," answered Scott; the Professor was watching the television again in deep concentration, "But I don't think they care," he nodded towards the crowd rampaging across the screen, "Their just angry he _is _a mutant."

There was long silence, where no one moved. All their attention was consumed with the news broadcast. The crowd was growing ever larger, and even the police were having trouble containing it. Vans arrived and anti-riot officers poured out. But this mob, for that is what they were becoming, seemed unstoppable.

The Professor shattered the concerned stillness by glancing down at his watch.

"Lunchtime," he said, trying to sound enthusiastic. He moved away from the screen and left the room. Hank felt it right that he went with the Professor, and followed.

Back in the kitchen, the air was slightly tense between the three mutants. As Hank laid the table, Charles got out five plates and Scott prepared some sandwiches. Within ten minutes lunch was ready, and Hank sat down nervously. The Professor told Scott to fetch the other students, which made Hank worried. Would they accept him, as Scott seemed to have done? Eventually, Scott returned, now accompanied by a boy and girl roughly the same age as him. The girl had long red hair that blazed like fire in the strong light, long arms and legs, and a pretty face. She wore a scarlet top that seemed to blend with her hair and, like Scott, jeans. The boy was totally different to the other two students. He had shoulder length hair, black as night, and dull eyes, like a mist had veiled them. Hank wondered whether the boy was blind but as he had no aid as far as he could see, he thought not. He did not were jeans, but a pair of black trousers. He was so thin and gaunt that his white shirt hung off him like a bag. Hank rose to greet them.

"Hank, this is Jean Grey, my first student, and Daniel Brandon, from Britain. Daniel, Jean, this is Doctor Henry McCoy, but he would prefer it if we called him Hank," announced the Professor. The girl called Jean smiled serenely at him, and Hank shook Daniel's hand, although the latter kept his sober expression.

"Welcome to the Xavier Institute," said Jean, and they sat down to lunch.

Hank felt ravenous, but in light of the increased company, he kept his manners. No one spoke for a while, perhaps because Hank was a near total stranger, or perhaps because they were also so busy eating. Once again, it was the Professor who started the conversation.

"Maybe, you should all tell Hank a little about yourselves," he said, nodding towards the Doctor.

"That would be most fascinating," said Hank, nodding in agreement.

"Jean, why don't you start?" said the Professor. She was sat opposite Hank, and had just finished her first sandwich (Hank was on three already).

She smiled, and began, "Well, I came here when I was twelve, about a year after I discovered I was a mutant," Charles gestured for her to continue, "I have psychic abilities, like the Professor and Daniel. My main power is telekinesis,"

"The ability to move objects with the mind?" said Hank, interested.

"Yes," said Jean, and she gave another one of her sweet smiles. "But I also have some telepathic ability. Both are not very developed at the moment; the Professor is teaching me to advance them."

"And how did you come to study at the institute?" asked Hank.

"I lived with my family until I was eleven. Then, on the way home from school one day, my best friend was nearly ran over by a car. I was just so desperate to save her, and then suddenly, she flew out the way. I found out afterwards it was my telekinesis that had pushed her from harm. Of course, now that I was a mutant, she wanted nothing to do with me. But after that, I began to use my abilities more and more, until my parents got worried. Then the Professor showed up and offered me a place at the school."

Hank looked excited, like a scientist on the brink of discovery. "This would support my theory that mutation manifests itself at puberty, during times of extreme emotion or stress. Fascinating!"

The Professor chuckled, and gestured to Scott for him to tell his tale. The young man looked suddenly uncomfortable, and shuffled in his seat.

"I don't remember much about my past," he said, "All I know was that my parents died in a plane crash when me and my little brother were really young. I lived in an orphanage until I was fifteen, then I came here."

"What is your gift?" Hank asked

"Gift?" Scott said. He gave a hollow laugh, "My 'gift' is a lot more like a curse." Hank looked bemused. Scott sighed, "My eyes emit beams of red energy that are very destructive, sort of like lasers. Now, you would think that would be cool, wouldn't it – laser eyes? But I can't control them. I can't just turn it on or off. If it weren't for these ruby quartz glasses, I wouldn't be able to open my eyes without obliterating everything in front of me. The Professor calls it an 'optic beam'"

A stony silence followed. Hank regretted ever asking about Scott's powers. Looking down, he searched his ashamed mind for the name of the last student. Finding it, he said, "Daniel, what about you?"

"Um – I don't really like talking about my past…"

"Daniel," said the Professor disapprovingly, "The others have shared with us, you respect hem by doing the same."

"Of course, Professor," said Daniel quickly. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He tried again, and succeeded. He said, "Like Scott, I lived in an orphanage for as long as I can remember. I never knew my parents; I never knew any family. When my powers first became apparent, the nurse at the orphanage threw me out. She was not a kind person, and I hated the place anyway. I wandered around the streets of London for nearly two years before the Professor found me." He gazed at the Professor as if to ask 'have I said enough?' Charles ignored him, however.

"Jean mentioned you were psychic?" said Hank.

"Yes, I am," replied Daniel. The Professor glared at him. This prompted Daniel's swift explanation. "I am a precognitive psychic; I see things before they happen. I also have telepathic powers." He looked again at Charles, and asked, "May I leave, Professor?"

Charles granted his wish, and said the others could leave the table too should they desire it. But as Daniel reached the door, he stopped. He swivelled around on the spot, and said in a choked voice, "Turn on the TV,"

No one moved, no obeyed his command. Daniel repeated it. Still they ignored him. Hank began to wonder.

"Turn on the TV!" shouted Daniel, and he rushed forward to the little unit on end of the breakfast bar that Hank had failed to notice, and jabbed one of the buttons. A cooking program was on.

"I didn't know you were so into cooking, Daniel," said Scott snidely. Jean gave him a disapproving look.

"Wait," Daniel hissed, shooting Scott a look that could kill.

Suddenly, on the TV, the Chef who was in the middle of explaining how to correctly chop up leeks vanished. A serious-sounding jingle played, heralding the news. A voice said: "We interrupt this program to bring you an urgent announcement,"

Jean and Scott looked at each other, and the Professor looked deeply concerned. Hank had a feeling he knew what the broadcast was about. On the little screen, a woman sitting behind a desk appeared, wearing a suit.

"There has been a serious accident during the last half hour in Washington, D.C. A building collapsed on protestors as police officers tried to calm them. It is believed several steel girders supporting the building were removed from the structure, causing the incident. Four bodies have been recovered from the rubble, but witnesses say there could be more than thirty still trapped. A spokesman for Worthington Industries, who own the damaged building, has confirmed that the structure in question is now stable, and they have teams looking into the event. Police say they are suspecting mutant involvement. We can now go live to our Washington correspondent, Rick Huston, who is at the scene,"

All the eyes in the room watched the terrible report. There was no sounds but from that television. Even Daniel's usually plain face had become grim. Behind the news reporter there had been images of the scene – blood, chaos, more rioting. Jean had clung to Scott when the deaths had been reported, afraid and sorrowful. When Daniel noticed this he glared again at Scott, but for the solemnity of the moment, said nothing.

"We have to do something," said Scott over Jean's sobbing head, "There are people in that rubble that are going to die if we don't help. It will take too long to for machines and people to move it. But we can do it, we can use our powers to shift it quicker."

"Yes Scott, I believe it is now time to act. If you would come with me." Said the Professor.

The Professor led the way down to the subbasement, and into the War Room. Hank was not sure whether to follow or not, but decided to go out of sheer curiosity. Once they had all assembled, Charles moved before them.

"It is time we are revealed to the world. We will show humanity that despite the differences between us, mutants are not a menace. Scott, Jean, Daniel – you have been trained to use your powers for good, and now it is time to use your powers in the real world. Hank, you are welcome to join us."

"I would be delighted," said Hank, smiling.

"Then you four shall accompany me to Washington, where will liberate those trapped people. Of course, as mutants we won't be well received. Daniel, you and I will have to try and calm the crowd so that Scott, Jean and Hank can get to the rubble. If there is any trouble – well, we shall cross that bridge when we come to it.

"To protect I identities, at least for a time, we will have to take on code names. I know it sounds childish, but it will be necessary. The group will need a name as well."

"How about 'Children of the Atom'?" suggested Hank.

"Too long I think," said the Professor

"'The Protectors'?" said Scott

"That is better," mused Charles

"What about the 'X-men'?" said Jean, "In honour of Professor _X_avier,"

"I like that idea," said Daniel, the others concurred.

"Well, thank you," said Charles, showing the slightest hint of a blush, "Now, you will all need your individual codenames. To save time and argument, I have chosen them for you. Mine shall be 'Professor X'. Scott, yours is 'Cyclops', you will see why in a minute. Jean, I have chosen Scott's nickname for you, 'Marvel Girl'. And Daniel, for you I have an apt name – 'Oracle'." He looked at Hank, "Unfortunately, I don't have one for you, so you will have to decide yourself."

"Perhaps my old nickname, Beast, would be suitable." Said Hank.

"A good choice," said the Professor, "Remember, you must only refer to each other with these names when we are at the site." He moved over to a control panel, and flicked a line of switches. Behind the assembled team, the walls opened, and six class cabinets, three either side of the door slid forward. In the first four there were black leather outfits of varying sizes; one of them also had a black visor, with a strip of ruby quartz as the screen.

"These are your uniforms. Hank although I failed to think of a codename for you, I did have one of these suits made. It will hopefully fit." Said Charles.

"Professor?" said Scott, pointing to the black visor in the cabinet, "is that my training visor?"

"An upgraded version of it, yes," confirmed Professor Xavier. Recognising the confused look on Hank's face, he said, "It allows Scott – I mean, Cyclops – to fire off bursts of his optic beam."

"I see," said Hank, "fascinating…"

After they had changed, the group boarded the jet in the hangar. A sleek black model, it had advancements Hank could only dream of. While no pilot, he had a limited understanding of avionics.

"Just like the simulator, Cyclops," encouraged the Professor as Scott took the controls.

With a slowly increasing whine, the plane began to hover off the ground. A clamouring above them told them that the roof of the hangar had opened. The jet moved upwards, further, further, until it cleared the opened roof (which appeared, to Hank's alarm, to be the basketball court). After gaining another ten feet, a roar from the engines launched the plane forward, and then they were away. Soon the mansion was a spec on the horizon. Hank, who had never been great with heights, refused to look out of the window. The afternoon had clouded over, providing ample cover for them to sneak over the skies.

In Washington D.C., many miles from Westchester, the situation was getting worse. Only one body had been found in the last hour, but many more remained. The most painful fact was that muffled cries could be heard under the ruins.

The collapse had been a total surprise. A large group of the protesters had been jostling with riot police when the office block had given way. After minutes of total chaos, where the sound of tumbling concrete and shrill screams shook the neighbourhood, the dust settled, and the horror of the event took hold. There was more screaming and shouting, people rushed around frantically. Someone obviously had the sense to phone for an ambulance, because several turned up. Soon news crews descended on the scene – an unwelcome addition. No one knew what had caused the accident, if it was an accident, but mutants quickly got the blame.

Some two hours after the incident, the police had begun to gain control of the crowd, and the rescue operation began in earnest. Worthington Industries had brought in equipment to try and speed up the process. But for fear of hurting those trapped, the machines were pitifully slow. Then, suddenly, as if it were gift from heaven, there came a roaring in the skies, and a black jet descended on the street, landing gear ready. Rioters and police scattered to make way for it. It landed with a thud on the tarmac and then from it's belly dropped a boarding ramp.

What came next quite shocked the onlookers. While they were expecting some kind of superman type character or perhaps a legion of SAS soldiers, there came a man in a wheelchair, dressed in a neat navy suit. After him there were two young men, a girl and some kind of blue animal – all in identical uniform, black leather jackets and trousers, with a yellow 'X' emblazoned across the chest. These were undoubtedly mutants. Several police officers rushed forward to deal with these criminals (how dare mutants land a jet in a Washington street!). But the man in the wheelchair said:

"Wait! We're here to help!"

"Who hell the do you think you are?" asked one police officer angrily.

"We are a X-men, a mutant group. As I said, we're here to help with the rescue operation," answered Professor X.

"You can't just land here –" the officer began, but the taller youth, who wore a strange visor, interrupted.

"Look, we can free those people much quicker than you can! There gonna die without our help,"

The officer paused, considering. With a defeated expression, he said: "Go on then." He turned to the crowd surrounding the accident site, and bellowed, "Let them through, there here to help!"

With the officers' help, the X-men battled through and came to mountain of ruined concrete and twisted metal. Jean located one of the victims close to the edge of the rubble using her telepathy and Beast forward to lift the large boulder. To his pleasant surprise, Beast found himself with strength he had not known he had. Maybe his mutation had affected his strength as well! With relative ease, he cast the ruin aside and found a limp arm in the dust. Clearing more rubble away, he shouted with joy as he saw the female body that came with the arm. And the head was moving – she was alive! Beast lifted her up into his arms, and with cheer from the crowd brought to one of the paramedics. Some though were not cheering. Those ignorant onlookers were jeering and taunting Beast for his appearance. Beast took no notice, and returned to the carnage.

Their work was swift, and within minutes, two more bodies were located by Marvel Girl and freed by Cyclops and Beast. The crowd were unexpectedly calm in the presence of these new mutants; in fact, most supported and helped the X-men. Professor X and Oracle were therefore able to aid the search too, now that the police had everything under control. Fifteen minutes passed. Six more bodies were found, and three alive. The X-men worked along side the human rescuers, and a sense of unity grew up between them. For those minutes when they were united by a common goal, that which is most basic – the desire to help others – there was no prejudice between them, no hate that slowed their work. Briefly, humans and mutants were as one race with no division – a whole.

That changed in a flash. Oracle, in the midst of locating what he sensed to be a young girl, suddenly felt an odd numbing in the pits of the mind. He straightened up; his face cold and limbs rigid. The heart-lifting scene of unity faded before his own eyes, and like it was a dream he saw an image of turmoil and chaos renewed. A moment later the peace returned to his sight, but like a wicked déjà vu his vision became real. The pile of rubble erupted, sending all those atop flying, along with the shrapnel of the ruin. A great metal pillar rose through the dust, of seemingly it's own accord. The uprooting of this steel bastion was undoubtedly the cause of the tumults. The X-men had been thrown all about the place. Cyclops, dazed and confused, glanced upwards. A trickle of blood ran down from his cheek and dripped over his visor, which had luckily stayed on. By the use of her telekinesis, Jean had managed to land better than the others and was already standing. Scott smiled through the throbbing pain in his head as he saw Jean rush to help those who had been hurt in the upheaval. Oracle was, strangely thinking the same, thing as his rival Cyclops. Jean was just so selfless; she lived and enjoyed living so that she may help others. If only he could share in that life too. But then, while Cyclops could enjoy those thoughts for a little while longer, Oracle's vision again became clouded. He suddenly felt a rush of agonised panic for Jean – she was about to be hurt!

The next second an iron bar swung round and caught Marvel Girl by the back of the head. Like its giant brother, it moved without aid. She gave a scream and fell to her knees. Both Cyclops' and Oracle's reactions were immediate and identical: forgetting their pain, they leapt to their feet and shouted frantically. But with a strange whirring sound, like metal being twisted violently but in a duller key, heralded the arrival of more bars. The two young men swiftly returned to the rubble-strewn ground. Hank, who was unconscious from the fall, was ignored. Professor X was not so lucky. He had not been on the pile when it had blasted outwards (he was speaking to an official who had arrived in the vain and stupid attempt to remove the X-men's jet), and so had not been affected. But now his wheel chair froze, and with that same sickly mechanical sound he rose into the air. No iron truncheon assailed him, but he was brought forward into the scrutiny of a man now standing where the rubble had been.

He was tall and imposing; all there immediately felt an air of power about him. The man was dressed in strange attire. He wore a helmet somewhat like to a roman centurion's, except that is was missing the crest. Because of this his features were shadowed, casting a mystique on him. He had tight gloves and gauntlets that seemed to be of steel. The man also had boots that came nearly to his knees. Because of the helmet, his age was impossible to calculate. His hand was outstretched and looked as if it was clasping something in mid-air, even though there was nothing. The Professor, who looked up at the other man, held an expression of bitterness and pain. His eyes widened.

He muttered, "Erik!"

"Charles," replied the man, "I should have expected you," It was testimony to his arrogance that he addressed the Professor by his first name.

Professor X cast about him at the dispersed rubble. He suddenly looked up, with horrified comprehension.

"It was you who did all this!" he said scathingly

"And you didn't even have to read my mind," the other man said, coolly. "But, Charles, why did you come? And why did you bring your 'children'? You must know by now that your efforts would have been in vain. You are dealing with Homo sapiens – weak and fragile. You may spare them death this time, but in the end it is a wasted effort. And they won't thank you for your nobility." He gave a short, harsh laugh.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand, Erik," said Charles

"Erik, my human name, is redundant, as you well know. I am known only as Magneto,"

Hank, who had just aroused, suddenly found himself with a splitting headache, a cut leg and a roving memory. Magneto? Where had he heard the name of Magneto before? At last, he remembered his conversation with Professor X down in Cerebro.

Magneto was torturing Professor Xavier. As they talked, he twisted his hand, and the Professor's wheelchair lurched this way and that – sending wave after wave of pain into the noble man. But still, he did not give in. He continued to argue with Magneto, asking him why he had done what he had done.

"Why?" laughed Magneto, "This crowd was going to become a mob! Innocent mutants would have been hurt, even killed. I am more of a saviour than you ever were!"

"You are the one hurting innocent mutants!" Hank called furiously – he would not stand for this, "You are hurting one now,"

Magneto looked down at Beast with a cold gaze. "I didn't know you were taking in animals, Charles," he sneered.

Hank saw red, an animalistic instinct surging through him. He felt such raw anger that his own, sensible will could do nothing to stop him. He leapt at the cloaked man with a roar. Magneto dropped the Professor, and instead brought up one of the iron bars to his defence.

Dancing out the way like some super-agile ape, Beast clawed at Magneto, but only caught billowing cape. Magneto raised both hands and levitated off the ground until he was well clear of his blue assailant. With an evil grin he directed the huge girder towards Beast. Hank was primed to dodge, but moments before the blow came, what looked like a red laser beam blew the girder away. Beast glanced round to see Cyclops standing in the direction the beam came from, one hand on the side of his visor. Behind him Oracle was tending to a groggy Jean. Another optic blast took Magneto out of the air. The pitiless man fell back into the dust but rose moments later.

"So be it," he said, and shook his head, "You refuse to see the truth. The mule of intolerance has kicked me before; I shall not let it happen again. I cannot let you stand in the way of mutant liberation. It pains me to destroy you all."

Raising his hands, which were balled into fists, every shard of metal, big and small, around him flew up into the air and with a flick of his fingers shot towards the X-men, now huddled together in a defensive group. Surely this razor sharp barrage would have been their doom, but it was not so. Jean suddenly snapped awake. She sat bolt upright and thrust forward her hand. This seemed to do little to the metallic volley until it came within inches of them – then each and every shard bounced off an invisible barrier that had appeared in the air, falling lifelessly to the ground. Only when one of the projectiles hit the shield did it reveal itself, by the means of a disruption in the air, like a heat haze, which distorted the image behind it.

The Professor, who had fallen out of his chair after Magneto had dropped him, looked round at Jean with surprise.

"A psychic barrier?" he said. He smiled proudly through his discomfort, adding, "I knew you had it in you,"

Jean looked dazed by this sudden display of power. She blinked and fell back down, panting. Both Oracle and Cyclops rushed to her, but the Professor assured Cyclops that Jean would be all right and he could do more to stop Magneto than Oracle. So Scott stood and did his duty.

Behind the comfort of his helmet, Magneto was quietly furious. Not only had Charles Xavier foiled his plan to scare the human population out of their protests, but he now had a band of, from what he had seen, powerful supporters. He could fight Xavier himself and win, but defeating his little 'X-men' might be more difficult. Perhaps he would have to gather to him more powerful allies that could out match Charles' group. Yes, then his plans could go ahead. But Magneto had little time to think further, because another beam of red energy was racing towards him.

This time he was prepared though. Before the blast reached him, he spread out his arms, and an electric blue bubble appeared about him. It shimmered as if it were bordering existence. Nevertheless, Cyclops' beam simply slid around it like water over a pebble. When the blast faded, the shield was still there.

"You're not the only one with a shield!" jeered Magneto.

The X-men changed tactic after several more optic blasts failed. Beast renewed his attack, but the shield seemed to deflect his swipes as well. It did, however, keep Magneto occupied.

Oracle turned from Jean to the Professor and said, "Can you not attack – I mean stop – Magneto using your telepathy?"

"I tried," answered the Professor, "But I think his helmet is somehow blocking my attempts,"

"So we need to get his helmet off," Oracle said, "Maybe if we –" But he did not finish his sentence. He looked up at the other side of the street and saw the tall building sway sickeningly and unnaturally. Turning back to their side, he realised the reason behind this. Beast lay injured over a block of ruined concrete, and Magneto was high in the air. He looked as if he was uprooting a particular tough and troublesome weed. As if an earthquake were shaking them, great cracks began to appear from the foundations of the building and snaked upwards. Bricks fell away and dust rose. Panic spread like wild fire across the street, police and civilians were running everywhere, shouting nothing at no one, but still managed to make a ruckus. Caught in the frantic chaos of the moment, Oracle felt utterly helpless. Cyclops shot in vain up at the madman in the sky. Jean screamed as she tried to contain the crumbling building – and there, Oracle felt a pang of desperation like a knife in his heart. He stood up in contempt of idleness, desiring very strongly to do something, and more importantly _save Jean_. Stretching his hand up to the sky, clutching at the air, something dazzlingly white shot from Oracle's fingertips like heavenly electricity. It soared into the air and was lost in the glare of the sun.

What happened next, and why, was a blur to the X-men. The building slumped back down to its foundation, sending a wave of khaki dust into the air. Magneto dropped out of the skies like a stone, followed shortly by his helmet that bounced of a girder with a clang. Jean managed to psichionically catch Magneto and he was placed carefully among the rubble. Then she slumped into Scott's arms, weary from her mental exertion and injury. Oracle watched silently and hate bubbled up inside him for Scott. Beast stirred and helped the Professor back into his wheelchair. Its motor was broken unfortunately.

"I may have to see my friend about this," the Professor said glumly, "Perhaps a hardier model,"

Beast looked thoughtful, "I am sure I could try and repair it. And then, maybe, improve it,"

Professor X beamed at Hank, "I would like that very much,"

Slowly a crowd descended on the X-men. Together they surrounded Magneto, who had woken. He had obviously been knocked out, which was why he fell. But what caused him to black out?

Without his helmet he looked much older. He had a mane of silver hair and dark, brooding eyes.

The Professor came forward, raising a hand to stop the police apprehending Magneto.

"You see Erik, we are not so easily defeated," he said, "And now, you shall help undo your evil,"

Touching his temples with each hand, Professor Xavier stared at the recoiling man in front of him. Suddenly Magneto's behaviour changed. Instead of trying to crawl away, he stopped and stood. He next turned to the building, as if he were an automaton. Then the damage done began to be repaired. The steel struts that had begun to emerge returned, and support teams moved in to secure the site. Any metal that scattered the street was placed in a pile, and the clean up started in earnest.

After a while the police chief who had been at the scene came up to speak with Professor Xavier. He thanked him for all he and his team had done, but when no reply came, Jean answered instead.

"It's our duty," she said

"I guess all mutants aren't that bad then, eh," the chief said humbly, not looking Jean in the eye.

"Most aren't," she replied. To the surprise of the policeman, she laughed, "We're just victims of bad press,"

The officer nodded uncertainly. Glancing down to the Professor he said, "Why isn't he speaking?"

"He's concentrating," said Jean, "on controlling Magneto. That's his power."

The policeman looked surprised and slightly worried, but then spoke, saying, "What did he want? Magneto, I mean,"

Jean paused before answering, her expression solemn. "In a way what we all want – justice. He went about it the wrong way, though. And that's the difference between him and us. We know that by peace and negotiation justice can be achieved,"

"That is what makes you the heroes," he said, and Jean blushed.

The X-men returned from their first mission late that night. Beast and Jean were taken to the infirmary but their injuries were not grievous, and felt well enough for dinner. Magneto was being taken to a high security prison known as the V.O.I.D., having been restrained by a 'mutation dampener' – another invention of the Professor's creative friend, who Hank later found out was mysterious called 'Forge'.

Hank fitted quite well into Xavier's 'family'. He got on well with Scott and Jean, whom he noticed had quite a chemistry between them. Hank would not have been surprised to learn they were a couple, but no such news came his way. Only Daniel seemed quiet around him, but the Professor said he was like that with everyone except Jean. The Professor himself asked Hank if he would like to share the syllabus with him for the students – taking all the sciences (an area the Professor was not entirely proficient in), Maths and Geography, as well as look more in the genetics behind the students' mutation. The Professor would teach English, Philosophy and History. Thrilled with these new prospects, Hank graciously accepted.

Dinner was not the awkward affair that lunch had been, but instead everyone talked animatedly about the days adventures, the government's possible plans for mutants, Hank's ambitious lesson plans, and so on. As they washed up they turned on the TV, just in time for the late night news. The room was a little quieter then. There were regurgitations of the incidents in Washington, and the X-men were not surprised to here their names (or, at least, their code names) being mentioned. They were a little upset to discover the news programme put them in a vigilante spotlight however. Jean was also quite peeved that she had been erroneously named 'Marvellous Girl'. Then, however, the mood darkened. The newsreader announced. "We can now go live to New York City, where Senator Robert Kelly is giving a statement regarding today's mutant fiasco,"

The picture switched to a podium where a greying man with narrow spectacles was preparing to speak. Camera's flashed repeatedly from all angles, lighting up the Senator's tight face.

"I think today has highlighted not only the problem this country faces, but an issue on a global scale," began Robert Kelly. He employed typical politicians techniques, emphasising certain words to get his point across. "Mutants are appearing all over the world. They are so widespread now that they live among us in almost every culture and society. Now I don't have anything against that, nor should anybody else. But the difficultly is they are DANGEROUS," this last word was said so loudly it silenced the jostling reporters vying for the best position, "The Senate is discussing restrictions on guns – but some of these so called 'people' possess ten times the destructive force of any handgun! There's a security risk as well. I've heard reports of a girl in Illinois that can walk through walls. There are even rumours of mutants so powerful they can control our very minds, taking away out God-given free will. The question is: do the people of America want to go to school with mutants? Be taught by mutants? LIVE with mutants? We need to know who they are and, more importantly, what they can do!"

The speech ended with applause and cheers of agreement from the journalists. Back in the mansion, the X-men stood silently. Each were as shocked as they had been during the report earlier, but now horror was replaced with disgust and contempt. Then Scott shouted in fury:

"He's only saying all that so he can get elected next week! He's riding on the wave of that 'mutant menace' rubbish,"

"The public know what they saw," said the Professor, "And they saw mutants doing good – helping save the lives of innocents,"

"They also saw a mutant attempt to destroy them," said Daniel quietly from the corner.

"Now they're all gonna think mutants are all murderers!" ranted Scott

"Calm down, Scott," said Jean empathetically, but her words had little effect. He continued to shout for another ten minutes until the combined efforts of Jean and the Professor brought down his temper. Then they all left the kitchen except Daniel, who muttered something about dirty dishes. While Professor Xavier and Hank retired to one of the living rooms, deep in conversation, Scott and Jean went out into the grounds for a stroll.

As they passed the melancholy of the twilight gardens, Jean noticed that Scott looked upset.

"Are you alright, Scott?" she asked, "I know you're angry about Senator Kelly but…"

"It's not about Senator Kelly," Scott said quickly, and he led Jean to a little marble bench surrounded by a crescent of Cypress trees. The scene looked liked something from ancient Greece, with the moon peeping up over the trees, shedding a silvery glow on the two young mutants.

"You know Jean, today in Washington," Scott said, in a slightly high and shaky voice, "I thought – I thought I was going to lose you,"

"Scott, I'm fine! Don't worry," Jean said, touching his face reassuringly.

"Yeah I know, and I'm glad." Scott said and he moved his hand up to Jean's, "But it made me realise that I can't wait around all my life for things to happen for me. It made me realise that if I have feelings about – about someone – I should act on them,"

Jean looked confused. Scott continued however, rushing now.

"Jean, what I'm trying to say is, I have feelings for you, and" the darkness hid his flushed face, "would you be my girlfriend?" He exhaled loudly, relieved to have finally finished.

For a moment Jean's face held confusion, but then it was startled, then blank. She looked down, and away from Scott's hopeful face. If he had been psychic he would have sensed Daniel in Jean's thought, and a moral dilemma within her.

But then she turned back, and a radiant smile broke through, as if uncontrollable. "Of course, Scott," she murmured, and they fell into an embrace. They were parted by the sound of smashing plates in the nearby kitchen.

"Clumsy Daniel," Jean laughed. She and Scott got up, hand in hand, "Better go help clear up," As they walked away, she stopped and Scott looked round.

"Scott, can we keep this private, for the time being?" Jean asked, her voice full of doubt and worry.

"Sure," Scott replied after a little consideration. Together they returned inside.

Daniel was nowhere to be seen the following day; the Professor said he had gone out early morning. Jean and Scott spent the hours the Professor was at church enjoying the bliss their new relationship brought them. Only when Hank honoured them with a rare appearance (having made himself at home in the laboratory) did they feign mere friendship, although jubilance was in a both of them whether alone or in company.

After the Professor returned around lunchtime on that Sunday they get proper practice at keeping their secret. It being the weekend, there were no lessons, but the Professor was keen to investigate Jean's newly discovered shielding ability. Scott's unusual offer to join them in the Danger Room gave Professor Xavier the first clue to the budding romance, but Scott guessed the Professor knew about it before long anyway. And, of course, Charles said nothing.

All was happy that afternoon until the telephone rang. Hank, who had emerged from the subbasement for a toilet break, answered it.

He called to the Professor, "Charles, there is a man on the phone for you. He says his name is Nick Fury, and it's urgent,"

Professor Xavier arrived and took the phone. Hank watched as he spoke with Nick Fury. The Professor's face turned from curiosity to serious to grave.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Fury. Goodbye," he said at last.

"What's the matter?" Hank asked, concerned.

"Mr. Fury was a representative of S.H.I.E.L.D., a government agency responsible for 'special cases'. They run the V.O.I.D. prison," he said, surprisingly calm for his expression.

"The place they were taking Magneto?" Hank said

"Yes. Apparently, Erik escaped en route, and killed two guards as he did so," Charles' voice cracked as he said this, and he put his head in his hands.

Hank was stunned. All the happiness he had felt that day with being in a new home and having at least three new friends just melted away. In its place was dread.

"What are we going to do?" asked Hank eventually

"I don't know," said the Professor, glancing upwards, "Mr. Fury said S.H.I.E.L.D would deal with it, but wanted us to be aware in case of revenge attacks."

"We defeated him before, we can do it again," said Hank in faltering hope

"Undoubtedly," answered Professor Xavier, "And one thing is indeed clear. Erik is intent on waging war on humanity, and we are as human to him now as Senator Kelly or Mr. Fury. The X-men will be called upon again, sometime soon I feel. It shall be so until all those like Erik are contained, and there is peace. The time has come now for man and mutant to stand together, with the X-men as the builders of this new society. By our example, mutants shall be encouraged to use their gifts for good, and by that same example discrimination among humans will be broken down."

And with that, Hank and the Professor went off to tell the love struck couple the grim news.

18


End file.
